I trust myself with sharp objects and deep water, Bella McClendron

I trust myself with sharp objects and deep water

By Bella McClendon

We’re lying on the concrete His eyes are next to mine I’m thinking I can forge it ‘Till he drops that fateful line

“I love you,” leaves his lips No longer can I breath The tears are welling up I think I need to leave

I sit up quite abruptly And soon he follows suit His eyes are apple green Oh no, here comes the truth

I’m pulling back my heartstrings Prepared to strike a blow Fair cupid has deserted me I whisper the word “no”

He doesn’t strike of scream Yet his faults I can’t ignore I wish that he would break Leave his sweetness on the floor

Instead, he reaches out his hands I’m burning up with fever The lecherous tendril of a plant The flying shuttle of a weaver

I don’t trust you well enough Please don’t pin me to this hill Now we have a history Your green eyes have caught a chill His kiss is icy cold, insistent His breath is crushing me Sweetness has frozen solid But his eyes are just as green Please don’t hold on so tightly I will not shift for you I love the lake and this fair place Will not be tainted by your truth

You cannot defile this sacred space You will not have my blood and bone I will not accept your red embrace Or your minds deepest, greyest tome

I can’t deny that I’ve been hurt My autonomy displaced A few of the things I thought I knew Have recently been re-explained

The lake was blue when you kissed me coldly Now the lake is steely grey My eyes were blue when you kissed me coldly Unlike the lake, I am not changed

I have returned to this concrete temple Returned to stake my claim anew To warm the stone with memories O happy things and not of you